The more pained he looks, the more something wild and electric surges in me.
“Why?”
“You know why,” he says, his voice almost hoarse.
Tension and excitement coil inside me, tightening around my heart, making me want to scream and squeal, all at once.
“Patty, I swear, if you don’t admit it right now, I’m not gonna make a scene; I’m gonna make a crime scene.”
“I—wow. That’s a really good line.”
“PATRICK O’SHANNAN.”
He rubs his hands over his face. “Stop trying to force a confession! I’m trying to make better choices! Trying to stop living for myself, for once, and the more teasing and tempting you get, the harder you make it!”
My mouth falls open in surprise. Indelight.
“So I’m a bad choice?” I ask.
“No! You’re aselfishchoice.”
“Flattering.”
“Did you need me to flatter you?”
“Too late. You called me tempting. And teasing.”
He glowers at me. Straight-up glowers, the heat of it practically radiating off him.
His chest rises and falls as his eyes burn down whatever walls I have left. He holds my gaze, and I can practically see the war waging inside of him.
And then, a muscle in his eye tenses, and he exhales roughly.
“Screw it.”
He plunges his hand into my hair, knocking his hat off me. His fingers tangle at the base of my neck, sending a shiver down my spine. His grip is just firm enough to scatter my senses. And when he breathes in—sharp and ragged—he takes my breath, too.
He’s so close, so blazing hot, I’m not cold anymore.
He brings his mouth millimeters from mine, and then he pauses. His eyes open and intent on mine. “Your first kiss isn’t going to be with Connor Nash, is it?”
I smile, biting my lip, tasting his breath. “No,” I whisper.
“It’s gonna be me, isn’t it?” His voice is low and rough, the sound vibrating straight through me.
“That depends.” My voice is so soft, so light, I’m not sure how he hears me. But he does.
“Depends on what?”
“If you kiss m?—”
The first press of his lips is everything I could imagine—sudden, consuming, delicious. He doesn’t just kiss, he coaxes, his grip on me shifting, his free hand sliding down my spine and pressing, anchoring me to him. I don’t know where to put my hands, so I clutch at his shirt, fisting the fabric as heat curls low in my stomach.
The pressure inside me breaks like a dam … right as a quiet panic takes hold:I don’t know how to kiss.
What starts so naturally becomes hesitant for me, and even as I throw my arms around his neck, even as the warmth of his lips makes me shiver, doubt gnaws at me.
Patty slows, sensing the shift, and pulls back just enough to search my face.
